I've had my eye on this place for the best part of three years, patiently waiting. From the moment I first saw it, I knew it would be a very special place, if only I could get in.
Finally, my patience was rewarded and after a rather acrobatic entry I was in. The house was comfortably furnished in an early-20th century style with dark wooden furniture and overstuffed arm chairs in abundance. In the bedrooms, canopy beds and heavy mirrored dressing tables suggested relative affluence and faded grandeur. Most of the house was dry and clean, but two back rooms were grey with damp and mould, indicating a blocked gutter or leaking roof (perhaps it was this that finally drove the owner out). What really made the place remarkable though was the contents: nearly every room was filled with things, piled high on tables and stacked in boxes and bags, some of them clearly already rifled through by thieves and the curious but most of them left untouched. It seems that the last occupant was latterly a widow, a hoarder, and quite religious. She'd trained at a horticultural college in Kent in the 1930s and seems for much of her life to have been a keen gardener and beekeeper.
This was a very personal explore in more ways than one and I was unusually moved by the sense of loss and sadness about the place.
For reasons which I'm sure you'll appreciate, I will not be giving away any clues to where this is, so please do not ask as a refusal often offends.
From the garden
The sheds were all crammed with old boxes and newspapers.
1958 Austin Cambridge in the garage.
Kitchen with dresser and bells.
Aga with larder to right
In the hallway
Coats
This gave me a start when my torch caught it.
Some of the varied collection of books distributed about the house.
Some of the items in the front room.
Side bedroom
More books
Pictures on the dresser.
Master bedroom
Light fitting.
Thanks for reading,
Arch.
Finally, my patience was rewarded and after a rather acrobatic entry I was in. The house was comfortably furnished in an early-20th century style with dark wooden furniture and overstuffed arm chairs in abundance. In the bedrooms, canopy beds and heavy mirrored dressing tables suggested relative affluence and faded grandeur. Most of the house was dry and clean, but two back rooms were grey with damp and mould, indicating a blocked gutter or leaking roof (perhaps it was this that finally drove the owner out). What really made the place remarkable though was the contents: nearly every room was filled with things, piled high on tables and stacked in boxes and bags, some of them clearly already rifled through by thieves and the curious but most of them left untouched. It seems that the last occupant was latterly a widow, a hoarder, and quite religious. She'd trained at a horticultural college in Kent in the 1930s and seems for much of her life to have been a keen gardener and beekeeper.
This was a very personal explore in more ways than one and I was unusually moved by the sense of loss and sadness about the place.
For reasons which I'm sure you'll appreciate, I will not be giving away any clues to where this is, so please do not ask as a refusal often offends.
From the garden
The sheds were all crammed with old boxes and newspapers.
1958 Austin Cambridge in the garage.
Kitchen with dresser and bells.
Aga with larder to right
In the hallway
Coats
This gave me a start when my torch caught it.
Some of the varied collection of books distributed about the house.
Some of the items in the front room.
Side bedroom
More books
Pictures on the dresser.
Master bedroom
Light fitting.
Thanks for reading,
Arch.
kudos too for keeping it safe and hidden
